Preconceived Notions

There were certain things that I knew pretty positively about my trip beforehand. From my last vacation to England, I knew the food was going to suck (I was surprised by a few actually palateable meals), I knew it was going to be cold as hell, and I knew the saying goodbye to my Master at the end of the week was going to feel like I was ripping a part of my body off and leaving it across the ocean. All of these things played out pretty much exactly as I'd imagined. (Although, I have to say, seeing my Master's sadness on the longest trip to the airport I've ever taken was a nice surprise. Not that I enjoyed in any way seeing him sad, but more that he had such strong feelings for me and wasn't ready to let me go just yet. It made my own sadness feel much more justified.)

And honestly, having been with my T for 11 years now, I had NO anticipated thoughts/feelings about the sex or the play. I didn't want to put pressure on myself to act or be a certain way. I also didn't want to build it up in my head as this fantasy world (where my body looks like Scarlett Johansson's when I'm naked and there's never any awkward moments or messy clean up afterwards) where real life can never live up to it. I will say that the comfortableness we seemed to feel pretty much immediately was a happy surprise. I will also say that I wasn't completely surprised that he affected me so entirely that the whole week had a dream-like Twilight Zone quality to it.

What I didn't expect was how unembarrassed I would be, coming and going with my Master by the front desk of my hotel at all hours of the night. I didn't expect to smile back with a cheshire cat grin at the snarky, I-know-what-you're-up-to hotel staff. But that's exactly how it was. I would go down there for coffee or chocolate with clothes haphazardly thrown on, just fucked hair and my face still flushed from playing and fucking and I would smile at the hotel staff with the proudest, biggest, cheesiest smile on my face. Like, “Yes, that was just me you heard screaming. I just got spanked and fucked and used so amazingly that all that ruckus you heard was probably even more wild and hot than what you're picturing. Oh, and you might want to tighten up the headboard.” (No, I didn't actually say any of this, but a smile can speak volumes.)

Alternatively, I didn't expect to feel total shame/panic when I'd go out with my sir. We didn't go very many places but the trip that stands out in my mind was when we went on an adventure to find me an American/UK power converter at like 4 in the morning. We were mostly sure we wouldn't run into anyone that knew my Master or his family, but it was so much on my mind to not walk too closely or hold onto him or look at him the way I can't help myself but to look at him, adoringly. And as a byproduct, I felt a bit icky, guilty.

Believe me, I was fully expecting at some point to feel like a homewrecker or an adulterer. I'm an overthinker, have tendencies for neurosies and really do care so much about my family and his. I would never ever want my actions or his to cause bad feelings of any kind to my partner or his. I just didn't think it would hit me, at 4 in the morning, walking through Asda (British Walmart) and realizing I felt like “the other woman” and terrified we'd run into someone that knows my Master. Plus, this snarky little employee was so disgusted that we'd want to convert their precious British power for use with evil American electronics. I thought maybe I was being too sensitive until Mr. G asked me if I noticed that guy's attitude and we had a good laugh about it afterwards.

I also thought I was going to work a whole lot more and not just sleep and read and watch some of my favorite TV shows that are no longer on the air. (Friends, Two Guys and a Girl, and Gilmore Girls!) I was so lazy and decadent. I ate like one meal a day, supplemented with stupid amounts of coffee, dark chocolate, and crisps (salt & vinegar, to be precise). I pictured myself feeling afraid to go out by myself, unsure of where to go and fear of looking like an idiot with their foreign money. Instead, I went out every day, walked around, people watched, bought little odds and ends, and felt very comfortable. I even thought to myself that I might blend in a little and not stick out like a silly American tourist (like how I felt my last trip to England.) I still took WAY too long figuring out how to pay for things, but the funny part is, I got to where I didn't care as much. I wasn't so self-conscious of it. And also, Mr. G was good to pay for things when he was with me so he didn't have to watch me struggle, picking up each coin and reading the amount printed on the side. I also think it helped that I'm a dork and I had google mapped the whole area around my hotel and had a good idea where all the shops and restaurants were.

I also had no idea the awe and amazement I would feel one night when we'd run out to get KFC (yes, I'm one of those fucking annoying Americans that goes to a foreign country and then eats American fast food) and we drove by Kirkstall Abbey. Mr. G was kind enough to stop and walk me around, giving me a private tour (it was closed but the outside is unbelievably impressive). I really couldn't have pictured he and I, at some ridiculous time like 2 in the morning, walking around a medieval Cistercian abbey (ruins dating back to 1152). It was so cold and he held onto me so tight as we walked around and I ooohed and aaahed over it. It was so unexpected and wonderful. 

There are probably a few things I'm missing here. But the last preconceived notion that was proven wrong was how badly I wanted to watch “The Secretary” with Mr. G. I had put my movie into my suitcase probably before I'd put any clothes in. I couldn't believe he'd never seen it and really wanted to watch it with him. About halfway through the movie (which, to his credit, he didn't say was boring or too serious or too slow, but I started worrying all these things) we decided we'd rather DO these things than WATCH them on a movie. It was funny how relieved I felt when I turned the laptop off and we started to play, when I'd looked SO forward to watching that with him. As it turned out, Mr. G and I had the most fun watching a comedy routine (Jimmy Carr's), Top Gear, my previously mentioned new favorite show The In-Betweeners, and Booze Britain (a show that's like Girls Gone Wild, but more like a documentary and no boobs).

Now, I think the main objective for me is to not get a bunch of ideas in my head for my next trip over. I try very hard to keep my expectations to a minimum. This lends itself to making everything more surprising and equally more fulfilling.